


All Work And No Play

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Half A Blowjob, M/M, Newspapers, Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-09-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're not allowed to go to bed until the issue's been put to bed first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Work And No Play

When Jongin returns to the office at just after eleven at night, double-fisting large cardboard cups of too-hot coffee, the light's already on. His stomach sinks.

"Fuck," he says to the potted fern in the corner. It stares blankly in reply, almost like it's taunting him. _What did you expect?_ He hangs his coat on a peg next to Chanyeol's and makes a beeline to his cubicle, even though he knows it's too late—that fucker probably stayed here all night just to _fix_ (that's Chanyeol's word—in Jongin's mind, it's much more like _undo_ ) all of Jongin's hard work.

Sure enough. A familiar scene: Chanyeol's hunched over the desk, head pillowed by his mousepad. The monitor's glowing faintly, casting a tired, bluish-white glow over Chanyeol's sleeping form. There's a row of _kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk_ on the screen that stretches out for pages as Jongin tabs up, trying to figure out the exact moment Chanyeol had fallen asleep. He finds its origin in the middle of an article about an uptick in the number of reported muggings near Jongno. 

"Hey. Dick. Why did you mess with the columns?" Jongin kicks the leg of Chanyeol's chair. The sudden motion startles him awake and his arms flail wildly as he struggles to maintain his balance. His hair's a mess, the checkered imprint of keys etched red and deep in the pale expanse of his palm. There's a wet patch of drool shining on his cheek when he looks up at Jongin, eyelids fluttering.

"Mmm? They looked like shit. Is one of those for me?" He buries his face into Jongin's stomach, dries off his cheek with the fabric of Jongin's sweater. Jongin grimaces but doesn't stop him.

"Yeah. Not anymore." He steps back and makes a big show of licking the lids on both coffee cups. Chanyeol scoffs, eyes lifted to the ceiling.

"Like that's going to stop me. Give."

"I spent over an hour editing that earlier," Jongin reprimands him, holding the coffee just out of reach when Chanyeol tries to retrieve one. "Why did you touch it?"

"Content's the same. I just cleaned it up. It read like someone's fucking diary entry."

Jongin frowns. "It's got to go to press in like, fifteen minutes. We don't have time for this shit—"

"Don't worry about it. It's ready to go."

"I'll be the judge of that." Jongin plops into Chanyeol's lap as heavily as he can manage, seat groaning in protest under the weight. Chanyeol grunts.

"It's _fine—_ "

Jongin loosens the grip on the coffee in his right hand, finally relinquishing it to Chanyeol who nurses it greedily while Jongin skims over Chanyeol's handiwork. Not as many last-minute changes as he'd thought. He fixes the placement of a few commas, rewords a sentence he _knows_ he's already fixed twice, and sits back, satisfied. "Alright. _Now_ it's ready."

Chanyeol's jaw sits heavy in the notch of Jongin's shoulder, his warm coffee breath damp against Jongin's ear as he reads. "Man. Why do you keep changing that line in the op-ed?"

"Because you shouldn't be relying on magnetic poetry as a way to put together sentences," Jongin cracks. "Okay. That's it—it's done." 

Chanyeol's a fraction of a second too late to stop Jongin from clicking submit. "Dude," he protests, bucking his hips in an attempt to dislodge Jongin from his lap. "My name's on this. People are going to think I wrote that."

Jongin rises to his feet to lean back against the desk, still between Chanyeol's knees. "Nah." He takes a long pull of his coffee before he continues, "For one, it's all spelled correctly."

" _Hey_ —"

Jongin smiles patiently. "It's too late now, Chanyeol. I put it to bed."

Chanyeol glances at his watch and tosses his empty coffee cup into the trash can. It lands with a soft rustling swish. _Three points._ He grins. "How about I put _you_ to bed?"

Jongin squints in disbelief. "Did you really just make that joke?" He takes another sip of his coffee. "Go home, hyung."

"Mmm. Not yet." Chanyeol stands, tugging the cup away from Jongin's mouth to replace it with the tilt of his own. Jongin closes his eyes and relaxes into the yield of Chanyeol's lips. He doesn't even care about the bitter taste on Chanyeol's tongue because he knows his breath's probably just as bad right now. He likes this part: the reward they give themselves for finishing an issue on time. Since they started putting terms on the times they were allowed to do—whatever this was—they hadn't missed a single deadline. A real win-win situation.

The keyboard clatters loudly when Chanyeol pushes at Jongin's hips to seat him fully on the desk. Jongin winces at the sound. They've already broken a computer messing around at the office like this. He's mostly glad they're so combative when they're actually working on the paper—he's heard the water cooler gossip, knows that the staff thinks the damage was done mid-argument instead of mid-... _well._

"Careful," he warns, fingers curling into the short hair at the nape of Chanyeol's neck. "We break anything else and the staff's going to start to wonder."

"Yeah? Let them talk." Chanyeol laughs. "We're just working out our differences." He attaches his mouth to the pulse under Jongin's ear and Jongin feels the dizzy rush of the blood in his body rushing south. 

"Uh-huh," he mutters, sliding his hand up the back of Chanyeol's shirt. Chanyeol straddles Jongin's knee, presses their bodies closer, ruts his clothed erection into the muscle of Jongin's thigh. The keyboard starts rattling again with each upward thrust of his hips. He grunts softly each time he makes contact. Jongin helps him out, pushes his leg against the rhythmic motion and sinks his teeth gently into the lobe of Chanyeol's ear. Chanyeol comes in his pants with a yelp, sweaty and panting like a guilty teenager when he glances over his shoulder to make sure they're still alone. The office is silent, save for their rushed breathing.

The choreography's awkward and fumbling when Chanyeol coaxes Jongin to switch places with him, pushes him down into the chair and gets on his knees to suck him off. Jongin gasps at the heat of Chanyeol's eager mouth, anchored to the seat by the steely grip of fingertips against the small of his back that tighten with each roll of Chanyeol's tongue.

The thing is—there's only so much fatigue the human body can handle before caffeine doesn't do a fucking thing to combat drooping eyelids anymore. Jongin leans back in the chair, head resting against the padded wall of the cubicle. He's trying to focus on breathing through his nose, letting Chanyeol's mouth bring him to release like it has dozens of times before—it's just not going to happen tonight. Despite his best efforts, he can feel himself getting soft, the stretch of Chanyeol's mouth around his cock going slack before he slides off with a soft kissing noise. 

"Are you—wow. You are." Chanyeol sounds dismayed. "What the _hell,_ Jongin." He sits back to rest his cheek against Jongin's thigh. Jongin looks down through his eyelashes, manages half a smile and rakes his hand over Chanyeol's dark, short-cropped hair. 

"I'm sorry. It's not—you," he says thickly through a yawn that nearly dislocates his jaw. "I'm just—two all-nighters in a row..."

"Hmm." Chanyeol makes a reluctant noise of agreement, presses his face back into Jongin's groin in a last-ditch attempt to finish what he'd started. It doesn't work.

"Sorry. Raincheck," Jongin promises quietly into the crown of Chanyeol's head. Chanyeol nods, takes great care tucking Jongin back into his boxers before he pulls them both to their feet.

"Come on, sleeping beauty," he says, voice scratchy. His hand is warm at the small of Jongin's back. "You can come home with me."


End file.
